


nothing to do with learning

by bookmarksorganization



Category: Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, First Chapter Is In Actual Forest, First Kiss, Inspired by Fanfiction, Inspired by Slow Show - mia_ugly, Inspired by some faith (the slow show fandom remix) - attheborder & curtaincall, Introspection, Longing, M/M, Near Death Experiences, No Beta, Pine Trees, Pining, Repression, Slow Show, Sort of happy ending, Warlock the TV Show, William (Warlock) POV, Yearning, the dream scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21743425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmarksorganization/pseuds/bookmarksorganization
Summary: A "5+1" style fic set in the Warlock universe.
Relationships: Erasmus/William (Warlock - Slow Show)
Comments: 121
Kudos: 132
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	1. it has nothing to do with anything

**Author's Note:**

> This is very meta fanfiction about the fictional show Warlock in the incredible fic [Slow Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395261) by mia_ugly. This work is also inspired by the incredible metafic [some faith (the slow show fandom remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/slowshowverse/works/21602221) created by [attheborder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/attheborder/pseuds/attheborder) and [curtaincall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtaincall/pseuds/curtaincall) who gave the Warlock characters names/made the world even deeper. You're all amazing.
> 
> This is my first time putting fic on Ao3 and I didn't beta/there may be some adventures in tenses here but WHATEVER, GET IN BUDS, IT'S TIME TO YEARN
> 
> I'm on tumblr as @various-things <3

William wondered, if he could think back over the years, when it had happened. When Erasmus’s presence, peripheral, circling closer, had become a lodestone which permeated the layers of his chest. William’s traitor of a heart pulled, against all of his promises, his learnings, the constructs of devotion and reverence that he had erected within himself, towards an axiom that could undo it all. And he wasn’t sure he’d care.

If he hadn’t known before (and he had) William wasn’t sure when it had happened, because loving Erasmus felt like the connection of his body to the earth, the breath in his lungs, the certainty of the sun’s daily transit across the heavens.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was certain.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever see him again.

It had been in a forest. They’d both held lanterns, two points of light in the dark. Stars in a sky. Ships passing in a black sea. Two ships passing.

William had wasted so much time. 

Erasmus had to go. He had old contacts. Could call in favors. It was their best chance at possibly getting ahead of this. He had told William, quietly, at the end of an evening in the previous town, what he was planning to do.

“Can’t do anything here.” Erasmus had said. “But… there are people… I could… might be our only chance.”

William had been silent. They were running out of options. Not just them. The Inquisition’s spread was worse than the plague. Everyone was terrified.

“H–how long do you think…” William trailed off. It was of no matter. Not his concern.

Erasmus’s expression was intent, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know.” he said softly, gently.

It made William feel exposed. Weak. Selfish.

A week passed. Letters were written. Plans made. And then it had been time to go.

Day faded into night. Erasmus said goodbye to the rest. Joshua was quiet. He had learned to be brave. Julia kept looking at William. He avoided her gaze.

He tugged his cloak around him. It was little protection against the cold. Scant cover for his bleeding heart. 

A priest and a stranger walked in silence.

This might be the last time. He watched Erasmus in profile, hued in shadow and lantern flame. William was starving. He hoped he’d remember the man like this. 

If it was to be the last time, he prayed (and it was a real prayer) to get to carry this with him. He could live on a memory forever.

He could say something. He wouldn’t. But, he could. There was a possible world where they would stop at the forest’s edge and William would whisper his love to a stranger in the dark, and maybe that stranger would take it from him. A life unbound by duty and creed. Where his feelings didn’t betray–

“Nearly there.” whispered Erasmus.

William lurched to a halt. 

They turned to each other. Only a couple of meters apart, it was an immeasurable distance.

“If there’s trouble–” he said.

“Get a message to me. Wherever you are, I’ll come to you.” 

And William knew it was true. Erasmus always gave too much. More than William could ever ask. But, for the boy, for the others… He nodded.

Erasmus crossed the distance between them, taking William’s chin in his hands. Their eyes met and William felt like he was falling. Didn’t stand a chance.

“I’ll find you. You believe me?” Erasmus was so close, and his expression was fierce. His hand seemed to thaw something, some brittle edge of asceticism that William could finally take a small step across.

“I do.” William breathed.

Erasmus smiled, then. “You do. Simple as that, eh?”

And this close, William could see the love in his eyes. In his own, he felt the first sting of tears.

“Thought you were losing faith, priest.”

“Not–” William stuttered, stumbled over his words. But, there was a truth. “Not in you.”

They stared at each other. Erasmus nodded, dropped his hand. 

He stepped back and shouldered his pack. They exchanged another long look. 

There was an understanding, of care, and reverence, and hesitation. William couldn’t be the one to look away, but Erasmus did, in the end. He turned and walked away.

William watched the light of the other lantern grow smaller and smaller, blur, and then sharpen as tears finally spilled over and ran down his face. Alone, he let himself cry quietly, with small jerked sobs. He pulled his cloak tighter to him.

When he returned to the camp, sleep remained out of reach. He sat with a book, wasting fuel to distract himself. 

And then, at long last, he was able to find slumber. 

He dreamed of Erasmus, and a battle, of blood and cold light.


	2. swept away by the winds of whatever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm shooting for updating this at least weekly but these are short chapters and I'm having fun writing this, so here's chapter 2!
> 
> The story & chapter titles for this fic are lines from the poem [Pyramid Scheme](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/145468/pyramid-scheme) by Hera Lindsay Bird which is so beautiful and such a mood and I recommend it highly.
> 
> You're all lovely. <3

**In the beginning:**

_Erasmus._ Really. Like he was some sort of philosoph from the cities. Named like he spends time rubbing elbows with aristocracy instead of negotiating odd jobs in mud-covered towns. 

Why was there so much mud? Why was there always more mud?

And yet, the man’s skill was undeniable. William hesitated to think where they might have ended up at this point without him. Despite himself, he was impressed. And Julia had sworn fiercely that he could be trusted. What choice did they have?

It had been a long, exhausting month. William was sure his absence from Neath would have reached the desks of the bishops. An abandoned parish. The guilt was sharp and bright, a sickly cast over the days he now lived in exile. There was no return.

Even so, the choice had been clear: an innocent life. 

William didn’t pretend to understand magic. He knew the line drawn by the church (hadn’t he fled with Julia and the child as a result). But, where was the “choice" that would be punished? 

The _act of sin_ the church so condemned? 

This baby had chosen nothing, and if William believed in anything, he knew he couldn’t allow that fate to befall a child.

(Months and months later, he’d realize that Joshua couldn’t have possibly been the first. But, here, it was early days.)

William huddled with Julia, Joshua asleep in her arms, beneath the hang of a roof. Erasmus was inside, arranging payment, confirming that this would be a safe place for them to lay their heads. 

Eventually, he emerged, grinning. Swaggered over. There was no other word for it. Where did he find the energy? They’d been up for days. 

“Got us sorted,” Erasmus said. “Not too shabby. Bed for Jules and the kid. Some bedding out back you and I can make do with, priest.”

“We’re not doing ‘Jules’,” Julia said. Despite their bemired circumstances, she looked remarkably put together. 

“No? Weellllll," Erasmus drew the word out, glanced around. "I’ll come up with something.”

“Can’t wait,” she said. But then, in earnest, “Thanks. Can you introduce us? I want to get dry.” It had been a long journey.

“Course,” Erasmus made an expansive gesture towards the doorway. “After you.”

Their host was a merchant, sticking close to home in the midst of the chaos. He apparently knew Erasmus, and watched him in a way that seemed far too intimate for someone Erasmus supposedly hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. Though, William observed he only did it when Erasmus was looking elsewhere. He had even been generous enough to give Julia and Joshua his bed in the lofted part of the small home, saying he had a cot he could make do with.

William made polite thank-yous and excuses, eager to get off his feet and to finally rest. Erasmus followed him, when he went outside. William supposed he must feel similarly, to not stay and catch up with his friend.

They’d be sleeping with horses, in an empty stall. It was a notable improvement.

Erasmus pushed hay around with his foot. His arms were full of blankets. He’d left William holding a jug of something and some cups, and William stood at the stall door, idle. 

Seemingly satisfied, Erasmus laid the blankets out. He was smiling, content. “Alright,” he said, holding a hand out. “Hand it over. We can drink til we can’t smell horse shit.”

William reserved comment on that, but followed into the stall. He sat with his back against a dividing wall. Erasmus did the same, opposite him.

He poured himself some… oh, it was ale, and handed the jug with the remaining cup to Erasmus.

For some time, they sat and drank in silence. William hoped it would last, but it didn’t. Erasmus had to ask questions.

“So, how’d you become a priest?”

“Started as an acolyte, spent about a decade in service and study, I, um, was ordained and assigned to Neath. That was… about two decades ago.”

Erasmus nodded, seeming to give that some thought, or maybe the drink simply meant he needed longer to process the information.

William considered him for a moment. “How did you, become… whatever you’d call what you do?”

Erasmus made a face. “Whatever I’d call what I do,” he said, affecting William’s accent. “Bit rude, don’t you think?”

It had been. William opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again intending to apologize but Erasmus cut him off.

“S’fine, priest. I’m not in the business of taking things personally.” He chewed on his lip. “Specially not from people who dole out judgment as a profession.” 

He said it softly, jokingly, but it still stung. Fair enough. William had earned that.

Erasmus continued, “Born poor, parents… died, did what I had to do... to survive. Didn’t want to join up with your lot, didn’t want to die in a war. Kept doing what I had to do to survive. Made it to the ripe old age you see me today. And now I’m probably going to get myself killed because I joined up with a witch and a magical prophesied baby and their priest.” He flourished his hands like he was presenting something. “Behold.”

William didn’t think Erasmus was very old. He seemed younger than William. Did he think William was old? Losing the point. He re-examined what Erasmus had said. “You didn’t have to come with us,” he said.

“I didn’t,” Erasmus said. “You didn’t.”

William emptied his cup. “I did.”

“Why?” 

“They would have killed him.”

Erasmus passed him the jug. “Yes.”

William took it, refilled his cup. “So you’re saying your reasons are the same.”

“I am. Would you have made it this far, without my help?” Erasmus asked, not unkindly.

“That was good of you.”

Erasmus didn't respond to that, for a stretch of time. Then “Thank you.”

They drank more.

William studied Erasmus. His clothes, his bag was set on the ground, there was a dagger at his hip.

“Wh... Didn’t you have a sword?”

Erasmus winced. Not an expected reaction. He mumbled something.

“Sorry?”

“I gave it away.”

“Wh… why?”

“Do you remember the family, couple of villages back? They were scared, and so poor, and the Inquisition could do who-knows-what at the pace they’ve been keeping up so I… had a talk with the husband. Turned out to be former military. No weapon. Because they sold it for food. So... “ he trailed off, muttering “Don’t need a sword to be dangerous,” as an addition.

William gaped at him. He couldn’t reconcile the Erasmus as a charlatan, a rogue, with someone who evidently did selfless deeds.

“A fly is going to go in there if you don’t shut it.”

William closed his mouth.

Erasmus picked the jug up off the ground, tilted it back and forth sadly. “We don’t have enough of this.” He took William’s cup, topped it up, emptied the remains into his own, which he then knocked back in a long swallow.

Then, he turned to the blankets beneath him, started pushing them around. William watched him for a moment, but eventually finished his own drink and turned away. He lay down nose-to-tail with Erasmus, a few feet between them. He snuffed their lantern.

In the dark, time passed in excruciatingly long drags. 

Erasmus lay there, still and shadowed, his breaths even. Already asleep.

He had judged the man, unfairly. Erasmus wasn’t wrong, when he said it was what the church, what men like William, did. But, clearly it had been in error. For all his flaws, Erasmus had done, repeatedly, incredibly selfless things and William found himself adrift. He realized that all of his company were people he had been taught to condemn. And he was among them. A heretic. A traitor. 

He had no room to judge anyone. 

“Okay, I’d keep pretending to sleep but we’re going to be stuck together for a while, and I’m bored, and you’re staring.” Erasmus sat up, oriented himself in the same direction as William. Flopped back down. Facing him.

William’s face burned. “I realize I’ve been very unfair to you. And I’m sorry.”

Erasmus was quiet for a moment, then “It’s really fine. It’s what everyone does, priest. Learned that a long, long time ago.”

“You’re a good man, Erasmus.”

More silence.

“And… going forward, I will extend you the respect you’ve deserved from the beginning.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”


	3. never learned anything good from being unhappy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of this chapter is pretty dark, and we come up against William’s self hatred intersecting with the dying-in-the-forest scene from Season 2. The chapter ends somewhere lighter, but I wanted to give a heads up here, since those are two pretty rough things to have paired together.
> 
> In addition to the usual blood & angst blanket caution I’d give for things set in Warlock’s world, I wanted to add a specific content warning for *needles/stitches* because if nearly dying on a forest floor wasn’t already the pits, you do have to get some follow up medical care after (that I haven't written in detail, but does exist).
> 
> Everybody needs a hug. Also, I changed this from a sort-of-5-things fic to a sort-of-5+1-things fic because I realized I was skipping season 3. WIP, etc, etc.

This couldn’t be the end.

It had crept up, between the trees. Soundless, then surrounding. 

“No, no, no,” Erasmus pressed hard against William’s chest. He kept saying that. No, no, no. Erasmus was crying. Oh.

_Maybe he’s crying because I’m going to die._

During heights of self-contempt, there were questions William would ask himself. 

Why would anyone miss someone like him? 

Beyond being useful, what about him could possibly be worth caring for? 

If he died, people might be politely sorry, might miss the extra pair of hands helping out, might miss having a listening ear to turn to, but they’d move on. There’d be others helping, listening. Humanity was resilient. 

“It’s fine. I’m alright.” _It will be alright. You have to be alright._

“All right–all right.” Erasmus echoed.

William speaking seemed to have slowed the man, returned his focus back to their current circumstances. It wouldn’t be safe here, not for long.

There was something wet, he could feel it on his stomach and running down his sides. “Am I bleeding?” William asked.

Maybe he’d bleed to death. Emptied out. No more deeds left. Losing blood. Losing faith. A dried up husk buried under the leaves.

“Just–a bit. It’s okay. Hey. Keep your eyes open, yeah?” Erasmus looked down at him.

For decades, William had come to know the different lines grief can paint on people's faces. The different ways loss could look. 

Erasmus wasn’t looking at him like he was afraid of being left behind. That was in there, but Erasmus was whispering “Please, no, please,” and _oh. I matter to someone. That’s new._

Someone would mourn him. 

William wasn’t going to die alone.

He hadn’t expected that.

His limbs felt heavy and cold, but in the center of his chest, where Erasmus was pressing down, heat spread. It soothed him.

“Your hand–don’t move it.” It was very hard to whisper the words. He lifted his hand, that was even harder to do, and dropped it over Erasmus’s. “Just there. It’s warm–you’re warm.”

“Hang on, all right. Don’t–”

“Just there.”

As the world went soft at the edges, sloughing off, a soft grey fading into nothing, his heart was warmed by the hands of someone else, the salt of their tears on his lips.

.

.

.

.

The world came back and it was bright and sharp and harsh and someone was yelling.

“William!” 

Julia’s voice.

There was something heavy on top of him. He blinked, tried to look around. 

“William, don’t move.”

Julia’s face came into focus. There was a bright pass of red across her mouth. Her nose was bleeding. He could see the ceiling of a tent. Their tent. They’d made it back.

He tried to sit up, and the world tilted. The ground knocked against the back of his head. Oh, there were blankets.

Erasmus came into view. He was holding Joshua.

“She was brilliant, William. She healed you.”

Julia lifted some things away from his chest, “Seriously, don’t move. I have to stitch you up properly.” She was trembling.

Erasmus looked relieved. Joshua didn’t seem to understand what was going on, and peered around between them all. He was holding a toy they’d found for him (in an abandoned home they’d happened upon weeks ago). A small ragdoll.

“William, I have to put better stitches in place, the cuts are deep and I did a really fast job of things before using my magic.”

William turned his head very carefully, trying to look around without moving his chest or shoulders. He heard Julia sigh, unhappy with him, but he needed to.

Erasmus had set Joshua down and was fastening the edges of the tent so the boy wouldn’t try to crawl or walk off. He had been walking now for about a month. They’d celebrated and it had been strange and sad because they realized it wasn’t his real family celebrating.

There was a cooking pot, some burnt herbs and stones with some sort of markings carved in, and a strange, dark knife… he’d seen Julia use it a couple of times before. It was for spellwork. Now she was threading a needle, face twisted in concentration, struggling to manage it. She was so pale, and her hair was plastered to her skin from sweat. What had she done?

She exhaled sharply, frustrated. “Erasmus, I can’t do this. I’m shaking too much, I’m sorry. You have to do it.”

Erasmus came to sit at William’s other side. “Okay,” he breathed. “I’ll… just talk me through it.”

She passed him the needle and thread. Erasmus pulled it through quickly and looked at her, waiting for instruction.

Julia shifted off of her knees and sat back. “Oh-okay. So the edges are already together so you just need to get more coverage. William, this is going to hurt. Do you want something to bite?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Erasmus turned from Julia, to William. “Ready?” 

She guided Erasmus through it, with precise direction, and William grit his teeth against the pain. Julia placed a fluttering hand against William’s forehead, stroking his hair back.

“We’re almost through,” she whispered.

* * *

William and Julia were useless for a week, capable of little beyond keeping pace between the changes of camp. They needed to put as much distance between themselves and where the fight had happened as possible. Conflict drew attention.

Erasmus took over care of Joshua as much as he could manage, still finding time to steal away to look for food when the boy was tired.

Eventually, William learned the extent of what Julia had done. They talked about it, while Erasmus was off somewhere.

“I think,” she said. “So you had lost a lot of blood, which we talked about. So, I tried a modification of a ritual I had seen done when I was younger. I was trying to replace what you’d lost with my…” She frowned, “I think I gave you my blood.” Then smiled. Then frowned again, another thought showing on her face.

“It… didn’t work when I saw it when I was younger. It was a husband, trying to save his wife. She still died.” 

She brightened again. Her emotions could be quick, changeable, the way a wave would transform on a shore. She was so fast. Brilliant. Stepping through sands of time. “But, you didn’t!”

William didn’t know what to say to that. 

“I think my magic is growing stronger,” she said. “I couldn’t think of anything else to try, it was our best shot. But, it worked.”

William smiled, faintly. “I’m afraid I don’t really know anything about magic, for reasons I imagine are obvious.”

Julia nodded.

“But,” he continued. “I’m very grateful that you saved me. And I’m sorry that you’ve had to endure this for my sake.”

Julia shook her head. “William, I’d endure a lot for your sake.” She paused. “Have endured a lot, for your sake. Loved being the go-between, with you and Raz that first month. And you get so fucking pious when you’re drunk.”

He laughed at that, shakily.

“The world is a better place with you in it. My life is better, with you here. We’re your friends. I care about you, William. Life can be so hard. Try to let it be kind to you, when it can.”

For the first time in his long life, and entirely by accident, William found that he was among friends.


	4. never learned anything good from being happy, either

It was strange, knowing people cared for him. Mattering. For a while it felt new and fragile. But over time, he found himself relaxing. Able to enjoy the moments of happiness they’d all find together. 

William was standing in a clearing. The ground was covered with vines, and moss. It was twilight.

Erasmus stepped out from between the trees. His eyes were black. His hair was the color of blood.

He stalked towards William, who stood there frozen. Helpless.

The man reached out, placed a hand against William's chest, ran it up to his throat, held it there against his jaw. “All alone in the woods, priest,” he hissed.

William gazed up at him, transfixed. 

Erasmus closed the space between them, pressed his mouth against William’s. And William parted his lips and their tongues brushed together; a hint of teeth pulled the shape of the kiss into something burning. 

Erasmus pushed him against a tree. Pinned him there by his wrists. Pressed together like this, William could feel everything. Erasmus drew back, dropped to his knees. He–

William woke up with a start.

_Fuck._

This had to be some sort of test. A temptation. 

William couldn’t deny that he’d been having a crisis of faith. It was difficult, to reconcile the actions of the church, now that he was outside of it and saw them for what they were, with the creator he loved. With the suffering he saw. How could a god of love allow this to be their legacy? William had always wanted to help people, but how much harm had he unknowingly perpetuated? A willful ignorance. No excuse for the pain he'd caused. He wasn't sure what he believed, anymore.

And this doubt had provided an opening. 

He would have to be careful. He needed to put some distance between himself and Erasmus.

So he did.

It hadn’t come up much, during his years in the church. There’d been a few times. The way a man had smiled, or shown some unique kindness.

William knew this about himself. But, it hadn’t mattered. It was like any other earthly sin: something to resist, to grow beyond. And it would have taken far too much courage for him to act on it. He never needed to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing, because William wasn't going to do anything at all.

It was easy, back then, to just carry on. Before.

Erasmus was confused by the change in behavior. William was more careful to not spend so much time alone with the man, and he joked around less. Erasmus worried he was depressed, and it made him try harder to cheer William up. Of course it did.

He watched Erasmus braid his hair. His focus, the strands of copper between his fingers, the line of his jaw.

Erasmus noticed that he was watching and tilted his head in question. William looked away.

* * *

Erasmus needed to scout ahead to another village. The timing was convenient, since they were actually staying in a local parish. But while he was away, a villager, grieving and desperate, set the church ablaze. Thankfully everyone made it out safely, but it left William and Julia concerned over how to find Erasmus. They couldn’t get a message to him. He would have been on his way back by now. So they lingered.

Two days after the church had burned, William was making his daily rounds through the town. They had set up camp about a mile away and he was so worried that they wouldn’t be able to find each other.

When he walked into the bar and saw Erasmus sitting there, his knees nearly buckled. Oh, thank god.

“Erasmus.”

The man started, turned, and his expression crumbled. Shock, relief.

He fumbled around in his pockets, slammed some coins down onto the table and tugged William outside by his sleeve, into an alley.

“I thought you were–I couldn’t find you.” His eyes were red and his voice was thick. He’d been crying.

“It’s all right, I’m right here–“

“The boy–“

“He’s safe.”

Erasmus looked terrified. “Are you hurt? Are you–”

“I said I’m–”

Erasmus pulled him into an embrace. He buried face against the bend of William’s neck and took a deep, shaking breath in. William sighed, hugged Erasmus closer to him. They held each other, so tightly.

Erasmus drew back. Their faces were inches apart. Erasmus was still touching him, and then he seemed to realize, and quickly let go. He backed away, laughing as he wiped his tears.

William couldn’t stop thinking about it, after. His hands, the way he’d drawn a breath against his skin. The way he’d looked at him.

Erasmus wasn’t a temptation. 

Why did that only make things harder?

* * *

One night, after a series of what could only be described as hijinks featuring other travelers, spurned lovers, a few cases of wine, an allegedly cursed necklace, and frankly excessive amounts of intrigue, William and Erasmus stayed up and had far too much of the wine they’d managed to abscond with.

William was very drunk and considering how normal he felt, for once, in comparison to that lot. What was an ill-advised bit of attraction compared to… whatever today had been?

“You know,” he started. “I’m glad, that things have always stayed above board, so to say, between all of us. Can’t imagine how that might have complicated things.”

Erasmus froze with a cup halfway to his lips. He set it back down. “What,” he said, flatly.

“Oh you know, between you and Julia, or… that there were never any misunderstandings or anything..”

Erasmus gaped at him. “Are you really acting like there was ever any potential of me going for Julia?”

William shrugged. He didn’t really have any intelligent comment to offer.

“Define misunderstandings,” Erasmus said.

William could not bring himself to define misunderstandings.

Erasmus raised his eyebrows. “If you ever want to have a real conversation about this, priest, talk to me when we’re both sober. And maybe don’t shroud it in twelve layers of… other stuff.”

William was still quiet. Too flustered. Too at a loss for words. But they were both drunk, so obviously Erasmus chose to barrel on.

“Because I got what you meant. But, I’m not doing this with you.”

William grimaced. “Let’s talk about something else, please.”

Erasmus seemed put out, for a second, and then said, “Do you think the necklace was cursed?”

William woke up the next morning with one of the worst headaches in memory. He and Erasmus didn’t talk about it.

Erasmus had said, “But, I’m not doing this with you.” 

Had he been mistaken about Erasmus’s feelings? Maybe it was only his own desires that were the problem.

A few days later, Erasmus handed William a flower when they were all walking through a field. “Matches your eyes.”

A couple of weeks after that, William and Erasmus were out foraging, making idle conversation. The weather had been unseasonably warm (a welcome change from the previous months). William took off his coat and Erasmus stopped mid-sentence.

They stared at each other. Erasmus was looking at his chest, his arms, in the thin shirt. His eyes flicked back up to meet William’s. He didn’t look away.

It was mutual.

William actually took a step backward before he caught himself and Erasmus rolled his eyes, turning to look at some moss like it might be edible.

“Just because you’re doing a bloody striptease in the forest doesn’t mean I’m going to _misunderstand_ things, priest.”

“I… wasn’t…”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

So they wanted each other. It was an inconvenience. A distraction they couldn’t afford. It was dangerous.

Thankfully, things returned to a more mundane regularity after that. Mud and tents and trees and cots and towns.

One morning, as they were leaving an inn, Erasmus handed him a book, saying “You left this upstairs,” as he walked past.

It was love. 

William spent the morning in a daze. He was in love. And he’d noticed it when handed a book.

This couldn’t change anything, of course.

* * *

Months passed. The world grew colder. So many things went horribly wrong. In a small room, Erasmus and William stood close together, trying to be quiet while Julia and Joshua slept.

Agnes was a prisoner of the Inquisition. Erasmus had been sent back to deliver the ultimatum. Her or the boy. 

“But, I don’t understand. We just saw her. She was fine. I–don’t believe you,” William whispered. He did believe him. He hated that he believed him. But, perhaps Erasmus had been deceived. Maybe something…

“Why would I lie about this? Why would he?”

“I don’t believe it.” William was panicking. This couldn’t be happening. Erasmus shook his head but William continued, desperate, “And why would he think this is my decision to make? What about–your friends, family–anyone he knows you loved. We need to warn them–”

“We really don’t.”

“Of course we do! How could you say such a thing? He’ll find them, like he found Agnes–where–”

“They’re in this room,” Erasmus said, loudly enough that William stopped talking. He stared at Erasmus, not following.

“Everyone I love. They’re in this room."

God. It hurt. It was wonderful. It was hope, somewhere, foolish. 

Erasmus loved all of them. And maybe William could have left it at that. But, he knew there was more.

Erasmus loved him. They were in love with each other. It was death. William’s love was a fire that he was standing in. A noose around his own neck. A great sea to drown in. And maybe he would have, if not for the other lives that he still had to try and save. So he fought his way to the surface. 

“He can’t–he can’t have the boy,” William said.

“I know. So I guess we’ve got to take the easy way out, and rescue your bloody sister.”

Their gazes caught, and held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big mood and inspiration for William realizing he's in love is the poem [how the cynic falls in love](https://kaitrokowski.tumblr.com/post/59453081006/how-the-cynic-falls-in-love) by Kait Rokowski
> 
> _When I realized I loved you  
>  it was not romantic  
> Not flush with pink roses & wine  
> but rather normal  
> Rather standing in line at CVS  
> clutching a four pack of peanut butter cups  
> & cold medicine  
> It was a quiet realization  
> Like checking the weather I was currently standing in  
> “Huh. It’s a bit warmer  
> than I would have guessed."_


	5. even when I am not thinking about you

They’d saved Agnes, and then so soon after, Erasmus had gone. In the months that followed, William learned what a broken heart felt like.

It was different, apparently, from wanting something unreachable, and it was different from self-denial: loss. He observed it with what was almost a sense of detachment. It was an actual ache in his chest. A pain that meant he was living, out in the world. It encouraged him to focus on what he _could_ do. On keeping Joshua, and Julia safe. 

They were a known quantity to the Inquisition at this point, and descriptions of them had been spread throughout the area. There were times they had to escape, but among those something new began to happen. People began to turn to them for help.

They did what they could. Over the years, Julia had become increasingly adept at small magic and possessed a wealth of field knowledge. And she wasn’t the only one, they noticed as they traveled. Outcasts, accused of witchcraft, would find themselves with strange talents. A child would have a tantrum and a bowl on a mantle would break. An old man would be surprised when he could dance like he hadn’t since his son’s wedding. This strange, magical plague was an endless flow of unexpected consequence, some of which were good. The fear and confusion about it was the worst part, by far. The misunderstandings.

Joshua asked for Erasmus. They didn’t know what to tell him. They said he was still traveling, but that he was safe.

There was one letter, once.

_"Been taking care of what we talked about. It’s slow going, but we’re making progress._

_I miss you all._

_Priest, I know you can do whatever it is you need to. Julia, you’re brilliant. Tell the boy a great joke and say it’s from me._

_Can’t wait til this is all over and we can settle down by a beach somewhere._

__

__

_\- Erasmus"_

William hoped he was okay.

He didn’t know what his faith was worth anymore, but he still prayed, "I don't want anything but this. I won't ask for anything but this. But please, please keep them safe."

Sadly, with how much the three were having to move, maintaining contact became impossible.

150 days since he had seen Erasmus. 

William continued to distract himself; there was so much that needed attention. But, his love didn't go anywhere.

One day, as they were walking in the ditch beside a road, William’s shoe caught beneath a root and he fell. His ankle twisted in a way it shouldn’t have been able to twist and he stifled a curse.

Julia ran up to him, followed by Joshua. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He wasn’t.

Joshua’s face loomed. William’s fall had put them at eye level.

“You’re hurt?” he said, intent.

“Just, just my ankle.”

Joshua knelt down and wrapped his hands around William’s ankle.

“Careful, Joshua,” William said.

Julia hovered, ready to pull the boy back.

A small wave of warmth passed around his muscles, tendons, through his bones, and as it receded, so did the pain.

Joshua smiled at him. “Now you’re better.”

200 days. 

“How have you been doing?” Julia asked.

William poked the fire. “Just lost in my thoughts. I’m an old man.”

“I’m sure wherever he is, he’s going to be fine.”

William didn’t want to rid her of hope. There was no need to share his fear.

“He is, William. Raz didn’t make it this far to not… make it now.”

350 days. 

William was a terrible priest. 

And he was kind, and sometimes he could be brave, 

and maybe it was time he picked a better rod to measure himself with.

The Inquisition had occupied the next town over. Smoke from pyres stained the horizon. They were burning people.

Blackwood was directly in their path. Not everyone could leave. There were children, elderly, others for whom quick escape wasn’t possible. So, they’d fight. It wasn’t a decision. This was the end of the line. He locked eyes with Julia, and they understood each other.

Joshua was playing outside with some of the other children.

William regretted that he had never asked Erasmus to teach him how to use a sword.

Think of the stories you learned as a child. How does a cornered mouse fight a lion?

With death marching towards you in a crush of steel, what do you do when you’re just… just people?

You find everything with a sharp end to it, in every house: pitchforks, shovels, cooking knives. You pull rusty swords down from walls. You fill cooking pots with pitch. You send everyone who can’t fight down into the cellar of the church, along with a few who can. You hesitate at first, when people ask for you to give them a blessing, but you do it. You do it for anyone who asks.

William had been telling stories for a very long time.

It was dawn. 

There were so many of them. William had thought they would at least have numbers on their side, but what if he had been wrong? The soldiers marched in formation. Identical in uniform and weaponry. 

The townspeople hid.

As the first of the Inquisition forces passed under roofs, the pitch was poured down. 

The screaming started.

It was chaos, and blood, and desperation. People died and it was so quick, so routine. William tried to note who was standing, who was still fighting, but he had to stay alive and he couldn’t do both. He dodged an arrow, rounded a building and came upon a group of soldiers walking in the other direction.

One of them turned, ran at him, and William acted without thinking. They crashed together, face to face. The man coughed. Blood splattered his teeth. They both looked down at William’s sword. William pulled it out. The man collapsed to the ground.

William stepped over him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and raised his sword again.

Somehow, things began to change. The Inquisition was falling. It wasn’t just the villagers dead on the ground. The earth had become slick from blood and filth. They kept fighting.

He was surrounded before he realized. Five men, William by himself, backed into a corner. He tightened his grip.

And then Erasmus was there. He pushed through the men, taking out two of them as he did. The others switched their attack and William stabbed one in the back as the soldier took a swing at Erasmus. 

“Priest,” Erasmus said. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.” He kicked a soldier in the chest, parried their swing, struck them down with a viciously quick strike. Only one left. William connected with the man’s shield, but Erasmus had an opening and got him in the throat.

They stood there.

William wondered if he was really seeing him, but he knew this was real. How was he here? And he had saved William, he–

Erasmus jerked from something unseen, gasped, and fell forward. William caught him, and saw the multiple arrows in his back. Oh, god.

Erasmus was still, slack in his arms.

No. No, no, no. Not like this.

William pulled Erasmus up against him. He was terrified. He could feel Erasmus’s breath, barely there against his ear. He wasn’t dead. But, he was dying.

_So, how’d you become a priest?_

_Didn’t you have a sword?_

_Keep your eyes open, yeah?_

_It’s all right, I’m right here–_

_You left this upstairs._

_Thought you were losing faith_

_Not–Not in you._

Erasmus convulsed. His chest heaved as he sucked a breath that was choking, and wet. William could feel the energy running from himself into Erasmus. He understood. Oh… oh–he went to his knees, set Erasmus onto the ground. He pulled the arrows out, horrified by the brutality of that, but it had to be done. William held his hands over the wounds and felt Erasmus’s skin knit together. He let it all flow out, certain, now. Erasmus was going to live.

Eyes the color of amber glass opened and looked into his own

“You’re alive,” William whispered. He was gripping Erasmus by the shoulders.

Erasmus blinked, looked around, confused.

“I saved you,” William said, in a rush. “I did. You’re alive.”

“What-how?”

“The boy.”

Erasmus leaned up onto his elbows, swaying slightly. 

“The boy,” William said again. All of the pieces had finally clicked together. “He’s the plague.” How had he not realized, sooner?

Erasmus stared at him. 

William couldn’t tell if he was understanding or not, but he continued, “That’s why they’re so frightened.” He held his hands out, at that. “I did it. I did what he can do.”

“I–”

“It spreads.” William pushed the man’s hair back, held his other hand to his cheek. “When you’re around him for long enough. It’s spreading.”

“What is?” 

“Magic.”

William pressed their foreheads together and heard Erasmus's inhale.

“I thought you were gone. I thought I’d lost you.”

“You never could,” he heard him say. “You never will.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Can’t I? Thought you were magical now. Aren’t you gonna keep me safe?”

William almost laughed. His heart was in his throat. “I will. If I can, I will.”

“Well then.” Erasmus said, and he tucked a loose lock of William’s hair behind his ear. "Nothing to worry about."


	6. when I am with you, an enormous silence descends upon me

William had pulled Erasmus back from death, but the damage was still significant. Erasmus slept for a day, unstirring. They all waited. Julia went back and forth from Erasmus’s bedside, doing what little she could. 

The next afternoon, Julia found William outside. “He’s awake. Go talk to him.”

William entered the room. Erasmus was propped up against the headboard. His hair had grown longer.

He smiled weakly. “Hi.”

William pulled a chair up to the bed. Sat down.

“Glad to see you’re still with us,” William said.

Something had changed.

“I missed you,” Erasmus said.

“I suppose you’ve never been a man of taste.”

“You’re one to talk. Couldn’t get yourself a different piece of sackcloth to wear sometime in a year?"

William leaned back. “One of the townspeople gifted me this shirt, actually. You bled all over the other one.”

“Mm. Glad at least some good came out of nearly dying. New clothes.”

William felt cracked open. He couldn’t pretend. Couldn’t say whatever he typically would have, at a point like this.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again. I mean, even before I thought you’d… I didn’t know that you’d come back. After you’d gone.”

“Well. You know me. Persistent.”

“And then… in… it was a kind of hell, wasn’t it? It was hell. And then you were there. And then I was holding you while you bled everywhere. And maybe that’s fair. I did do it to you first. But, you were dying in my arms. The first time I...” he hesitated. “The first time I see you, touch you, where you aren’t… haunting my dreams.” He tried to make the last part sound like a joke. He wasn’t sure he’d managed. Maybe it didn’t matter.

“Didn’t though, did I?”

“No,” whispered, with affection.

“Because of you.”

“Because of the boy.”

“And now we’re all back together.”

William was afraid he’d say more. Make some sort of promise. More confessions. Instead he said “I’m selfish.” What was he doing?

Erasmus shook his head. “No. You’re one of the least selfish people I’ve ever met. Actually a little insufferable about it.” 

William laughed, sadly.

Erasmus ran his hand across the space on the bed next to him, over the blankets. “If you want,” he said, softly.

William hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to jostle you, not with your wounds.”

“I’ll be fine, priest.” On the last word, he made a face. “William?”

It was strange, hearing Erasmus use his name. William stood. He hesitated at the edge of the bed, then sat down, careful as he shifted up against the headboard to not move things any more than could be avoided. 

His love didn’t bleed out around them. His heart stayed in his chest. It was the quiet light of an empty room. It was a vast stillness. Though more wasn’t said, it was honest.

Erasmus was so close, watching him. William touched the side of his face, so carefully, ran his thumb over his cheekbone. Erasmus was here. Alive. As safe as they were going to get, for now. 

William couldn’t fight it anymore, because it was peace. 

“Okay?” he asked, quietly.

Erasmus nodded. It rubbed his cheek and jaw against William’s palm. He opened his mouth, and for a moment, he seemed like he was about to make some sort of remark. Some sort of usual joke. It’d be fair, being laid up with multiple arrow wounds. But, their eyes connected and whatever he’d been about to say got lost.

William leaned forward, and kissed him. It was careful, soft, and Erasmus breathed a small sigh against William’s lips. Then he kissed William again, still so softly.

A part of Willam wanted to keep kissing him, _finally_ , but right now, he was bone-weary, and in this incandescent moment, terror lingered, perpetual, at the edges.

They separated, still inches apart.

“I’m really glad I didn’t die,” Erasmus said. William gave him a cautious, teary hug.

Soon, much sooner than they’d hoped, they needed to leave. Erasmus was still moving slowly, and they had to be even more careful. If people hadn’t matched their faces to the descriptions before, they certainly would now. And what had been rumor, was now known fact.

There would be other kisses, other ways Erasmus and William would show up for each other, their souls in orbit. 

One day they would say everything.

But here, was a beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and especially to the warlock party house. <3


End file.
